


The Coming Storm

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: A Collection of Ideas [22]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Instability, Military Training, Mutant Extremists, Mutant Politics, Mutant Rights, Mutant Spencer, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Slow To Update, Torture, group bond, small time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group known as the Elitists have been taking young mutants and training them up to be killers and soldiers in the up and coming war against humanity. Spencer was taken by them when he was just thirteen years old. He'd been there for three years when he met someone who would change the course of his life once more--a devil eyed boy with a smile that reminded Spencer of what it was like to be human. Together, the two--and their team--will challenge what they've been taught and work hard to fight for their future and the future of the world. Friendships will be made, relationships formed, bonds tested, and sacrifices made. Together, the small group will stand, and together they will fight.</p>
<p>A storm is coming. And there's nowhere for anyone to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coming Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Please be mindful of the tags! If those sorts of things are triggers for you, then please, keep that in mind before reading this story.

The whole facility was abuzz with the news that a new group of kids were being brought in. Word like that always spread like wildfire. It’d been so long since anyone new had come to join them and their arrival brought a mixture of excitement, fascination, sympathy, and even dread. Most of those in residence had already been here for six months or more; new faces was an exciting thing to them. There were some that felt sympathy for those coming in, knowing what lay ahead for them and what they’d just left behind. This wasn’t a pleasure cruise they were coming to. This was a training facility.

Or, as those who were brought here referred to it as—Hell.

It was a place full of their worst nightmares. A place that had been made to take young, impressionable mutants, the younger the better, and break them down before forging them into something new—something dangerous. It was a training facility run _by_ mutants, _for_ mutants, recruiting and training up children to become soldiers in the war against humanity. The place was run by a radical group known as the Elitists who wanted to create teams of mutants who could go out into the world at their bidding and help take down the human ‘enemy’ so that a new way could be opened for mutants to take their rightful place as the dominant species.

Mutants were taken as young as they could and brought to the first half of the facility where they were systematically broken down by any means necessary. From there, they were taken to the second half of the facility— _this_ half—where they were assigned to a team and their training truly began. They were sectioned off into groups with 4-7 members in them and those members then became a team, a ‘family’. They ate together, bunked together, trained together, learning how to function not as individuals but as a unit. They were taught the skills of a warrior—of a killer.

This fresh shipment of kids meant that a new batch had finished the first part and were now being brought here to train. That meant new teams would be formed.

Sixteen year old Spencer Reid—or Orion, as he was known here—didn’t really care all that much about the arrival of the new students. He had his team, his people. Why did he need to see the new young minds that these people had destroyed? He’d already seen so many come and go.

A part of him was saddened to realize just how immune to it all he was becoming.

The young genius was considered one of the senior students. He’d been taken three years ago when he was just thirteen and starting his first year at Caltech University. He'd graduated high school at the age of twelve and, with a genius level IQ, had been accepted into Caltech the very next year. Not even a week into his first semester, he’d been walking home from the library one evening when something struck him from behind. He had no memory of what happened after that, only of waking up in Hell.

Three years he’d been here now, almost four, and it had changed him. It had changed him a lot from the quiet, shy young man he’d been before, so nervous in a crowd and yet excited and eager to start his life at college. The person he was now, he doubted his own mother would recognize. Life had changed him. _They_ had changed him. Spencer knew that people whispered about him, about how long he’d endured his Hell before he’d finally broken. Longer than anyone. For all that he looked weak, that place had taught him just how strong he truly was inside. Just how much he could endure. But it had left his scars both literally and figuratively. He was quieter now than he’d been before. The long-winded rambles he was known for were a thing of the past. Now, Spencer very rarely spoke, and if he did it was only to his team.

Speaking of his team; the door to his room opened up and one of Spencer's teammates, an older boy by the name of Marcel Kidd poked his head in. Marcel was eighteen years old and had come to them all a bit later than most, just two years ago. He was the oldest on Spencer's team, though he wasn’t their leader.

The sandy haired man was the quiet and serious type. He didn’t speak often but when he did, he was to the point, usually coming off as serious and often considered cold. He was a muscled man, one that at first glance you would think was the fighter of their group. But while Marcel—or Ace, as he was called—could fight and he could do the whole bodyguard bit, he was much better with the long range weaponry. He was their sniper. The enhanced senses granted to him by his mutation, as well as a minor healing factor, made him even better with almost any weapon they put in his hands.

Eyes the color of a pale blue sky easily found Spencer where the young genius was seated on his bed, reading. “Orion, bosses want everyone out there to see the new kids.”

Oh, joy. Spencer closed his book and immediately pushed himself up off the bed. Though he didn’t really want to go, he knew better than to think about disobeying an order.

The two boys fell into step together as they made their way down the hall to the main room. It was where Spencer knew the new kids would be brought in.

The other teams were already filling the room when Spencer and Marcel arrived. They were lined up along the right side of the room waiting and whispering with one another. The teams didn’t mingle with one another; it wasn’t encouraged. Rivalry was encouraged. Spencer never understood that. To him, if they were all being trained up for the same cause, shouldn’t they all want to work together? But that was just another thing in a list of things he’d learned not to question. He kept to his team, kept to himself, did what he was told, and waited for the day that they would be able to walk out those doors and find freedom again. Or, at least, some form of it.

Spencer easily found where the rest of his team was waiting. There were only two more members waiting for them. Isiah Young, a sixteen year old with the ability to manipulate the gravity around him, who went by the name Indigo. His specialty was demolitions; he was a genius with explosives of any kind, as well as small blades. The teen was surprisingly cheerful considering the place they were. But that just seemed to be his nature. Isiah had one of those open, fun, almost childlike personalities, easily bored and prone to causing a bit of mischief. He could be serious when needed—scary, even, with his excitement and enjoyment in blowing things up—but he was also kind and fun and extremely loving.

He was a uniquely attractive young man. Isiah’s wide eyes were a deep sort of purple, looking almost like drops of wine. Long, silky black hair hung in a braid that ended almost at his knees, seeming even darker than it should in contrast to his pale, china doll skin. He was short, the top of his head barely reaching Spencer's shoulder, but he was reed thin with a dancer’s slender body and flexibility.

Beside him was the youngest and most unique member of the team. Nita Dominguez—Tinkerbelle, as they called her—was standing at Isiah’s side. She was close to the same height as him, and slender as well, yet somehow she managed to look, smaller. Delicate, almost. Spencer always figured it had something to do with her mutation. Nita was what the facility labeled as ‘anthropomorphic’. She was a human/bird hybrid. For the most part, she was human. Heavy lidded green eyes set in a heart shaped face, a wispy curly puff of moss green hair cut short around her head, with skin she’d once told Spencer was ‘nut brown’. Apparently she’d heard that description once and quite enjoyed it. But then there were the things that clearly labeled her as ‘bird’. Slender talons instead of fingernails, both on hands and feet—and a pair of green bird wings that stretched out from her back. Under the surface, Spencer knew she also had bird bones, hollow and more prone to breaking than a regular human’s.

Nita was their team thief. Not only was she small and quick, easily able to tuck her wings in tight against her back and somehow manage to compact herself into small spaces, she also had a very birdlike fascination with shiny things and was prone to ‘collecting’ them. If the need called for it, she could be dangerous, far more than she looked capable of. But she preferred to simply fly away if trouble came. It was one of the things the facility was trying to break her of. Spencer hated seeing it. He hated seeing these people trying to squash the bright, childlike joy that lived in Nita.

At the sight of Spencer and Marcel, both Isiah and Nita perked up. The young girl grinned at them and her wings gave a small flutter against her back. Absently, Spencer noted that some of her feathers were out of place. He’d have to get Marcel to help pin her down tonight long enough to do a bit of grooming. Nita loved them all, openly and wholeheartedly, but she and Marcel had a bond much like brother and sister.

“There you are!” Nita said, bouncing up on her toes. Full lips stretched into a wide grin. “We’ve been waiting _forever_. The new kids are about to come through and Boss Man was getting impatient. I can’t wait to see who comes in. Do you think there’ll be anyone interesting with them?” The ‘rivalry’ thing had never really sunk in for Nita. She saw people as interesting, fun to look at, fun to inspect. Actually being friendly with them, well, that was a different story. She could be polite. She’d smile at them and talk and anything else. But she didn’t actively make friends. Not because she wasn’t allowed, but because this place had made her into someone who didn’t trust anyone aside from her own team. It’d taken Spencer months of hard work once she’d joined them, just a year ago, to get her to trust and like him. Once he’d earned that trust, he gained her unwavering loyalty.

Isiah smiled at Nita and shook his head. “They’re not shiny new toys for you to play with, Tink.”

“Ha! Show’s what _you_ know.” She shot back.

“Hush.” Marcel murmured. “Look. They’re coming.” He moved in on the other side of the two so that he and Spencer were bracketing their younger members. It was an instinctive gesture meant to protect and shelter; one that very rarely worked around here.

A sharp whistle rent the air and every single ‘student’ straightened themselves up. They formed a perfect line against the wall like the soldiers they were supposed to be.

Spencer watched as the door at the far end of the room opened and they all got their first sight of the new students—the newest ‘recruits’ in this painful war. There were fifteen in total, a large group. Only three of them showed any visible signs of mutation. One girl had pale pink skin, one of the boys had spikes that looked like metal on his arms, another boy looked like he was some sort of human/bear-like hybrid, and another boy had what appeared to be gills on his neck. None of the others seemed to show any sign of their mutations. Spencer looked to the bands on their arms to get a clue.

Every student here wore the same thing. This was the Elitists version of military training, so to that end they all wore the same clothes. Black pants and black shirts. Some, like Nita, had to have part of their clothes modified, but for the most part they still stayed the same. Hers had been modified to tie at the back of her neck with a gap between there and the bottom so that her wings could come out. She had to step into her shirts and pull them up, slipping her arms into the sleeves and then tying it behind her neck. But on the left arm of each shirt were bands that could mark one of the categories of mutations. There were different colors for physical powers, mental powers, enhancements, mimicry, and manipulations. Those were the five main categories that the Elitists used for classification. Every power could be fit in one of those categories. Marcel’s senses and healing went under ‘enhancements’ and marked him with an orange band. Isiah’s gravity control went under manipulations—green. Nita’s powers fell under mimicry—yellow. Spencer's powers…those fell under mental—blue.

There seemed to be mostly green and blue, a common thing. Mental powers were very common. Telekinetic powers were pretty common, he’d noticed, and that technically fell under the ‘mental powers’ category. Telepathy to one extent or another was common as well. Manipulations were another common one. Energy, elemental, physical—there were so many different types of manipulations. As Spencer's eyes ran over the group that was lining up, trying to take in as much detail as possible and store it away for later, he found a surprise at the very end of the line. The boy there was marked with both green _and_ orange. Enhancement and manipulation? That caught Spencer's interest just enough to have him taking a closer look. When he did, he was a bit surprised by what he saw.

This guy wasn’t as young looking as the others. Spencer guessed he was probably close to Marcel’s age, maybe older. Eighteen to twenty, maybe. Quite a bit older than most that were brought here. Wow. He was, tall. Even from a distance Spencer could see that he was tall—taller than Spencer's slender six foot frame. Shaggy auburn hair partially sheltered his face, but spencer could see enough to take note of the strong jaw with at least a day’s growth of hair on it. He had the build of someone who took care of his body. Wherever he’d been before here, he’d obviously worked out in some way, or engaged in some kind of regular physical activity. But it was when the man’s head shifted a little that Spencer got his real surprise.

It wasn’t the sight of the red and black eyes that startled him. He’d seen too many things here, too many different mutations, to be startled by demon eyes. What startled him was the _life_ he saw there. The _temper_. It was there for only a second before it was once more hidden and the man looked every inch the subservient student just like the rest of them. Spencer snuck a look around him and could see that no one else had seen what he had. No one else had noticed the life that was still burning inside of this man that had peeked out for that brief moment. But Spencer had seen.

They may have thought they’d broken this man but Spencer had a feeling they only saw what he wanted them to see. And _that_ —that definitely had Spencer's interest.

General Seth Marks—just General, as they learned to call him, or Boss Man as he was called sometimes when they were alone—marched down the center of the room between the two lines and gave the same speech that Spencer had heard many times before. “These students have successfully completed the first half of their training.” He was telling them all. His voice was loud, carrying easily to all ends of the room, and more than a few people shivered from it. Spencer couldn’t blame them. If this was hell, then the General was the Devil in charge of it all. He was an evil, sadistic bastard who took far too much delight in the punishments he meted out. “They’ve earned the privilege and the right to join our ranks. To train with us in the hopes of one day becoming soldiers in the fight against the human scourge that has overrun this planet…!”

Spencer zoned out the speech. He didn’t need to hear it again. instead, he studied this new student. Whoever he was, he was careful. That little spark of life in his eyes didn’t show again. Though Spencer had a feeling he almost slipped once. When the General spoke of eradicating the stain of humanity from the earth, Spencer saw the student drop his head down just enough for his hair to once more shelter his eyes. It was only brief, but the tiny clench to his jaw had Spencer guessing that he’d taken a moment to try and gather his composure.

Eventually, the general wound down, and then came the final part of things.

“Before we break our recruits into their own teams, are there any of our current teams that wish to take on a bit of fresh meat?” The General turned to the current students and looked from team to team. “Any of you that still have space with to take from the new recruits?”

It was no surprise when the Daemons Team took the boy with the metal spikes on his arms. He’d fit in with that group.

Only once before had Spencer ever requested anyone for his team. Marcel and Isiah had both been placed with Spencer when they arrived, back when Spencer said not a word to anyone and they hoped to mold him into what they wanted. But his team had requested Nita. Marcel had been the one to do it. Spencer almost never spoke to their superiors.

So it caused quite a stir when Spencer stepped out from the crowd and spoke. “I do, General.”

The General turned to look at Spencer with open surprise in his cold blue eyes. “Orion?” He strolled down the line until he could stand in front of Spencer. Though he only had a few inches over him, he was at least three times Spencer's body mass, all of it muscle, and he cut quite the intimidating figure. Spencer stood his ground and met the General’s eyes without flinching away. It was a skill he’d perfected here. The General stared at him and lifted his eyebrows. “I confess myself surprised. Which recruit is it that has our silent Orion actually _talking_?”

“The one at the end, sir.” Spencer said firmly, not looking away.

Turning, the General looked down to the end. When he saw who it was he made a sound of amusement. “I should’ve figured you would pick him. He lasted almost as long as you did.” There was just a moment where Spencer wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Then the General lifted a hand and gestured to the one at the end. Immediately, the student came forward, stopping only when he was beside them. “Well then, meet your new recruit—Dante. Dante, your new team leader—Orion.”

Spencer met those demon eyes that were staring almost blankly at him and hoped that he hadn’t just made a giant mistake. Something inside told him that he hadn’t.

* * *

Students were dismissed now that things were done with and were sent back to their rooms. Spencer quietly led his team back to their room, their newest member following behind him. He came with nothing, just as they all did. Everything he’d needed would be provided here and anything extra had to be earned. Dante kept quiet the entire way there; he didn’t speak to them and they didn’t press him for anything. Not yet. They held off until they were all inside of their room.

Spencer had no idea how the people here moved so quickly. It’d been ten minutes at the most since he had picked his new teammate and yet there was already another cot in the room as well as the requisite stack of clothes sitting on top of it and a pair of boots down on the ground. There was also a pair of gloves lying there, with the thumb and forefinger missing on them. Interesting. Spencer logged that away but said nothing on it. He just went straight to his own bed and sat back down in the same spot he’d been when Marcel came earlier. It wasn’t surprising when Nita came and sat down with him. Being excited to see the new people was one thing—having someone new in their space, their room, on their _team_ , that was something else entirely.

It was Isiah who stepped up and spoke to their newcomer. “Come on in, make yourself at home.” He said, gesturing towards the new bed. “They brought your bed in already, an some clothes for you. Might as well get comfortable.” He stuck a hand out towards the guy. “Out there they call me Indigo, but in here I’m Isiah.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before the guy reached out and shook Isiah’s hand. “Remy. Or, Dante, apparently.”

Well now. That was a nice, thick Cajun drawl that flowed over his words. His voice was thick and heavy with it, with a slight rasp like that of someone who’d smoked just a bit too much in their life.

Isiah’s grin grew wider. “Awesome. Well, Remy, welcome to Alpha Team: Shadow. Over there on the bed is our esteemed team leader, Spencer, also known as Orion, and next to him is our resident thief, Nita, also known as Tinkerbelle. An this guy here,” He gestured behind him to where Marcel was still standing by the door, cautiously watching them all. “Is Marcel, or Ace. A lot of names, I know, but you’ll adjust pretty quickly. Just make sure to keep the real names in here. Outside that door, it’s codenames only.”

Marcel cut in before Isiah could get any more out. “Give him a second to breathe, squirt.”

The hyper teen didn’t look the least bit apologetic as he said “Sorry.”

For his part, Remy seemed slightly amused by them. He was playing a part here, Spencer could just tell, and playing it well. Every move he made was easy and deliberate as he went over to his cot and dropped himself down onto it. The way he laid back, how he folded his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles, all of it was deliberate, done to project a certain image. Spencer could imagine that it worked on most people. But most people weren’t watching the way that he was, and most people hadn’t seen the kinds of things that Spencer had. He’d seen enough people come through here of all different types. The angry ones, the scared ones, the ones who fought it, the ones who embraced it, the ones who loved or hated it, the ones who thought they could escape. All of them covered up what they really felt to one extent or another.

Fluffing her wings up a little to better be able to sit up on the bed, Nita shifted so she could see Remy while all the while keeping somewhat close to Spencer. One of her feet slid out until she could press her toes against his leg. The contact seemed to calm and reassure her somewhat. With her usual blunt way, she asked Remy “So, what is it that you can do? Aside from the eyes, I mean. What’s your power?”

“Nee!” Isiah scolded her quickly. Spencer didn’t bother. He knew that Nita wasn’t being offensive. Her mutation was right out there for the world to see and she’d sort of adopted this view that it was only fair that she get to ask people about their powers since they could so easily see hers.

“What?” Nita demanded. She huffed and shot a glare over at Isiah. “He’s part of our team now. Don’t you think we should know what it is he can do?”

Remy snorted and arched an eyebrow. “What, dey didn’t give y’ a whole dossier on de new recruits?”

That made both Isiah and Nita laugh out loud. Even Marcel’s lips quirked up a little. “Do they really seem like the type of people to do something like that?” Isiah asked.

“ _Non_ , not really.” Remy admitted. He rolled his head to the side and his eyes drifted off Nita and right over to Spencer, staring right at him. “It was de only t’ing dat made sense, though. Otherwise, why de hell else would y’ pick ol’ Remy outta a crowd of a bunch of other fuckers dat all look de same?”

Instead of answering, Spencer cocked his head and stared right back at him. He knew his stare could be considered unnerving sometimes. Eyes that his mother had once told him were the color of his favorite chocolate had gone cold and hard over the years. Morningstar, the leader of the Demons team, had once said that Spencer had dead eyes. _“That’s why he doesn’t talk.”_ He’d said to his team, making sure his voice carried to Spencer and the others across the training field. _“He’s already dead. It took them forever to break him and then they did too good a job. He’s just a robot now.”_

It was what a lot of people thought, Spencer knew. The only ones who knew better were the people in this room. And, of course, those that watched them on the cameras. There wasn’t a part of this facility that wasn’t supervised.

Just as Isiah opened his mouth, probably to explain to Remy that Spencer didn’t exactly talk, Spencer surprised them all by actually answering him. “I saw something about you that was different than the rest.” That was the best answer he could give without saying something that might get Remy in trouble.

“Is dat y’r power, den?” Remy asked. “Y’ see t’ings?”

“No.”

He waited, but Spencer didn’t elaborate.

This time Spencer did stay quiet and Marcel was the one to fill in the silence. He was usually the one to speak for Spencer. “Seems a little presumptuous to be asking after our leader’s powers when you very neatly sidestepped telling us about yours.” He pointed it out in that same calm voice he used for most things. Folding his arms over his chest, Marcel leaned back against the wall by the door. “Why he chose you isn’t really important. Be grateful that he did. You wouldn’t like the other teams out there.”

Isiah quickly nodded his agreement. “He’s right, dude.” Dropping down onto the bed that was beside Remy’s, between his cot and the wall, the teen curled his legs up underneath him and gave a small mock shudder. “You could’ve been stuck with Morningstar, or Viper, or Tempest. Trust me, you do _not_ wanna get near those guys.”

“Spencer takes care of us.” Nita chimed in. She pushed her toes against Spencer and smiled at him.

Remy looked around at them all and Spencer could practically see the wheels turning inside of his mind. For a few moments there was just quiet while he processed everything that was going on and everything that had been said. Spencer really couldn’t blame him for being cautious. Who wouldn’t be after the place he’d just been? The fact that the guy was this cautious, this closed off, was actually a _good_ sign. It meant that he might’ve broken for them, but he wasn’t really _broken_ inside. He still retained some of himself.

Finally, when the silence began to stretch on enough that it was just shy of becoming uncomfortable, the Cajun finally spoke. His eyes flickered to Spencer briefly before settling on Nita, the person who had asked him about his powers in the first place. “Got a charge, me. Can take anyt’ing dat aint alive an charge it up to explode.”

Well that was an interesting power. Spencer would have to see it a few times to understand how it worked. But it was interesting.

He was amused to see Isiah light up a little. The kid really was a happy little bomb maker. He loved to make things explode. Remy’s powers probably seemed like Heaven to him.  Sure enough, the teen let out a low whistle. “You lucky bastard. I’d _love_ that. I just have stupid gravity control. I can manipulate the gravity around us and make it heavier or lighter. Ace over there is our ‘extras’ guy. He’s got enhanced senses, a bit of healing.”

“Not that hard to tell what I am.” Nita said cheerfully.

Remy smiled at her almost like he couldn’t help himself. She tended to have that effect on people. But then his eyes once more moved back to Spencer and the look there was just a bit more speculative than before. Spencer recognized the question there. What he wasn’t sure about was whether or not he should give an answer.

Though he’d been drawn to Remy from the instant he first looked into his eyes, it didn’t mean that Spencer was going to instantly trust him. He knew even better than most here just how hard trust was to come by and how stupid it was to give it blindly. He’d had plenty of time to have that drilled into his head. But he trusted his team and there was a part of Spencer that insisted that, if he let him, Remy could become a very important part of their team. They didn’t have to trust him right off the bat; that trust would have to be earned. However, if they wanted him to earn it, they were going to have to give him the opportunity and motivation to do so.

For better or worse, he was a part of their team now, and they were going to have to learn to work with him. Learning to work together meant that he had the right to know what the powers were of those he was working with. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else here couldn’t just tell him what Spencer could do—even if they didn’t know _all_ of it.

“They call mine Psychometry.” Spencer said lowly. “I can touch something and I, learn.” That was the most simplistic version of it.

“Y’ learn?”

“It’s sort of like touch telepathy. Just, kinda more.” Isiah supplied helpfully.

“It’s hard to explain.” Spencer said. Which was true; it was hard to explain. Especially when he had to keep certain parts out of it. There were some things that he didn’t need said out loud. Some things he never wanted the people in charge of this place to know. Spencer had learned to hold on to his secrets. “I sort of, absorb memories, you could say. Regular memory, muscle memory, thought memory. Say that I reached out to touch you, Remy, and I saw in your memories you playing the guitar. My powers draw the memory in so that I see it, feel it, live it as if it were my own, essentially replicating the memory inside of my own head. But I don’t gain just the _thought_ of it. I don’t absorb just the thoughts of it all; I absorb the _skill_ as well. I could actually draw on your skill at playing the guitar and then use it. I’ve never played guitar in my life. But I’d be able to pick one up and play, using what I learned from your memory.”

That had Remy actually sitting up on his cot. “Y’r kidding me.”

Comfortable in his powers, Spencer shook his head easily. “Not at all. With just a touch, I get so much. I gain the memory of learning how to play and even the muscle memory of how your fingers are supposed to move. Though, if it does require a certain strength, I would still have to train my muscles to make them stronger. Everything that makes you able to play, I could draw in. That is, if I want to. I can usually pick and choose what I want.” It was better than when his powers first manifested. Then, all he’d had to do was touch and he’d absorbed so much, learning so many things without being able to stop it from happening. And the things he learned didn’t leave him when he let go. They stayed with him, the replicated memories becoming _his_.

“He touched our shooting instructor once.” Nita said, drawing eyes to her. “Now he can fire every weapon Lieutenant Dolman can. They don’t let Spencer touch anyone now outside of us without their permission.”

They had no idea how smart a plan that was. Spencer could absorb so much in just a single touch, in only _seconds_. The longer he touched, of course, the more he got. But just a few seconds was enough to get him plenty. It wasn’t just skills that Spencer could pick up on. He could see all their memories, even their thoughts in that moment, as if he were some kind of touch path. It worked not just on people but on some objects, too, if the person who had touched or used them left behind a strong enough psychic imprint.

In his time here, he’d honed his skills, learning how to be more selective at what he got and even how to shut it off completely so a touch could just be a simple touch. But he’d also learned how to do _more_. How to touch someone and open that door between them and not only hear the thoughts there, but to project his own thoughts back. That was the part that he kept very, very quiet. No one here except for his team knew that he could do that. He wasn’t about to go advertising that he could have private conversations with his team.

A sudden buzzing sound interrupted their conversation. Immediately, the team began to move. Isiah was the one to reach out and offer Remy a hand. “C’mon, that’s the lunch call. We’re not allowed to miss that.”

“I aint about to miss free food, even if it’s from dese _connards_.” Remy said. He clasped Isiah’s hand and gave him a surprised look when the skinny teen pulled him right on up. Amused, Isiah grinned and winked and then turned to almost skip over to where Marcel was holding the door open for them.

Spencer followed out last, watching as his team moved in front of him, Isiah talking lowly to Remy the whole way. Time would tell how their newest member was going to fit in with them. And here, time was something they had plenty of.


End file.
